thisavrou_log | ( open ) It's hard to wake up from a nightmare...

Entry tags:

( open ) It's hard to wake up from a nightmare...

Who: Jessica Jones + You
When: Late, late evening of 6/8 when it's basically early am of 6/9
Where: Space Bar (+1 closed starter for 6/6)
What: Getting drunk enough to not feel anything.
Warnings: Language, alcohol, JJ spoilers, specific warnings will be in threads below - otherwise ???????? It's Jessica.

After a long talk with Trish, she still couldn't get ahold of her emotions... Which meant removing herself from the situation before she lashed out at someone rather than just a wall and added to the shit-stain of a pile she already had. She'd taken off to the planet, getting the most secluded room she could manage - practically requesting her own island.

It took two days to actually settle down and start to process what was still so raw and bubbling under the surface. She'd been thrown pretty much from her mess into the ship's right off the bat with those fucking whales. Those whales that she'd fought to help because she didn't care for people taking advantage of helpless creatures - creatures who were apparently intelligent. It had been a good channel for her own rage, even if it hadn't helped her pre-existing injuries heal. Much like the prison world. She'd finally stopped moving, thanks to cryo, only to discover just how rough of shape she still was in - even if she was fully healed on the outside.

Jessica hadn't expected the conversation she'd gone into with plans for control to go awry. She hadn't expected her first actual interaction with the flag waver himself to get interrupted by someone so incredibly self-absorbed to fan boy and hit a few nerves she thought she'd succeeded in burying while on board. Aftermath of her own she'd refused to process, a choice she may now regret but still wouldn't go back and change if she could. It wasn't her style. She couldn't fix what was already fucked up, so why bother trying?

All she could do was carry on. Get to the next day and go from there. Besides, she wasn't placing all the blame on him considering she'd let her emotions get the best of her. She should have shut that down right at the start, but he'd found just the right buttons to push and push and push until she snapped. She hadn't really slept for the two days she was down on the planet, the exhaustion showing on her face as she sits at the bar - brand new laptop in front of her, tablet off to the side, and a bottle of whiskey in a bandaged hand as she stares blankly at the screen. Almost as if she's willing it to do it's own thing rather than make her move. Jess takes a pull straight from the bottle, ignoring the shot glass in front of her because why bother getting something dirty when she didn't give a flying fuck how it looked? She doesn't exactly radiate a welcoming presence, vacant seats around her. And she's fine with that. She wanted to go back to her roots, back to freelance work rather than being tied down to the bullshit job she'd been assigned to on this ship.

One big problem with that: hard to do freelance PI work if there's nothing to investigate. At least nothing on the books. She could dig into the Captains and some of the bigger shit-stirrers on board, keep tabs on future problems. Too bad the only progress she'd made was typing one word in big, bold letters before taking another drink. Anyone who peeks over her shoulder will just see:

FUCK

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They're responsible for saving more lives than you, I am willing to bet... Are you responsible enough to bear that burden?

Those words sat with her, playing over and over in her mind. There was a lot of shit she could put up with - a lot she could look past as blind ignorance. She hadn't shared her story because it wasn't his to know. It wasn't really anyone's fucking business. The things she'd tried to do to stop Kilgrave from destroying more lives. It shouldn't have taken Hope killing herself to seal a decision that should have been made a long time ago. To kill him instead of work towards his capture. She might have been responsible enough to bear the burden of her actions and his, but she wasn't sure she was strong enough. Not when it all came crashing back down around her, begging to be dealt with - leaving her sitting on the floor of one of the communal showers with a bleeding hand and shattered glass from the bottle she'd previously been holding. She hadn't even noticed it had shattered, too lost in a flashback, until she felt shards digging into her hand. Jessica is quick to drop what she can, carefully pulling the rest out with a sharp hiss.

"Shit..."

She lets her head fall back slightly, resting it against the cool tile of the shower - eyes closing as she lets the water wash over her face. Tears finally begin to fall and that's when a decision is made. She can't be on this ship right now. She can't trust herself to be in control around people when she couldn't even handle it on her own. She sends off a quick voice-to-text to Trish after realizing just how deep one of the cuts while trying to type. The attempt to go hide might need a little help to start off.

need a favor
bring bandages to the showers on nomo deck

don't worry
i'm fine
it's nothing serious

Whenever Jessica says she's fine, especially if she does so over the phone or via text, Trish experiences a moment of terror. That four-letter word has such a wide spectrum of meaning when coming from Jess that it's basically not even a word anymore, it doesn't mean anything, and for all that she knows Jessica might actually be bleeding to death right this fucking moment.

Bandages. She needs bandages, but how much of it? How badly hurt is she? "Nothing serious" on the Jessica Jones scale of injury assessment could mean anything from a papercut to multiple fractures.

To sum up, Trish might be just a tad overloaded on bandages when she comes into the bathroom, but she feels entirely justified when she sees the broken glass and the blood.

"This is what you call fine? Drinking in the shower?"

She puts the bandages down and goes to turn the water off, carefully avoiding the broken class and crouching down by Jessica's side to grab her wrist and get a look at her injured hand.

"Bandages can't fix this, you need stitches."

And yes, she can absolutely see that Jess has been crying so guess what, once they get this bleeding stopped there will be a talk before Trish lets Jessica go anywhere.

So, she might have an issue with using 'fine' to mean a lot less than what it's actually good for. She also doesn't tend to use the word 'help' unless she's got no other choice. It was right up there with a few others that she was 90% sure she was actually allergic to.

There's an immediate regret to her decision when she sees Trish, giving a groan at the chiding. Eyes drift up when the water suddenly stops, brows knitting when the room fills with silence before Trish starts speaking again. Her voice is surprisingly lacking in some of its usual bravado, instead with a familiar edge that she'd had that night on Trish's balcony when she'd asked for money. "I don't want stitches. I just need bandages and to get off this fucking ship. I need --" She swallows hard, eyes closing for a moment as she gives a soft hiss of pain.

Stitches mean Medbay, Medbay means walking past the dent in the wall outside her room, dents combined with her already bloodied knuckles - something Trish will see when she turns Jess's hand over -- means possible reports due to damages... Which all summed up into questions she didn't want to fucking answer. She knew she would eventually have to give someone her full medical and mental health history. She just didn't want it to be today.

"Look, we saran-wrapped my ribs that one time. This is nothing. I'll heal in a few days. I don't need stitches."

"Your ribs weren't bleeding."

They might have pierced something to cause internal bleeding, but Trish prefers not to think about that because yeah, treating broken ribs with saran wrap is just... really fucking stupid.

"Bandages aren't going to put a stop to this."

Surely Jess can see that it wouldn't exactly be smart to leave a trail of blood wherever she goes.

"I know you heal fast but that doesn't make you immune to bleeding out."

At least... Trish doesn't think it does.

"I'm not going to bleed out from a cut on my hand, don't be dramatic. I'll be fine." She lets the words dissolve into something of a scoff, the words leaving her mouth with little to no conviction behind them. Jess could only argue so much, she just didn't want to admit that Trish was right in this situation... And that she'd actually have to go to MedBay.

"I'll go on one condition. No questions in MedBay. Stitches only. I'm not filling out a fucking report or having someone decide anything about me."

She doesn't need someone labeling her a danger to herself or others because she was in control. Sort of. As in control as she could be. Besides, she wanted to put herself onto a remote island of some sort, far away from people anyways. This was already going to be dealt with - that's all people needed to know.

"I'll keep them off your back, I promise."

She's not promising anything about not asking questions herself though, but she is counting on Jessica kind of assuming that. She is not just going to let Jess run off somewhere without an explanation. Not again. It was bad enough when it happened on earth but here?

Fuck, anything can happen out here. Jess might take off and just... not come back and it could mean anything.

Trish is not willing to live with that risk without at least some answers.

"Fine."

There was one thing keeping her on this ship, one thing keeping her in check: Trish. She couldn't leave her here on her own, not like this. Yes, she'd be okay - she had Bruce and the others. On top of that, Trish was far more stable than Jess... Easier to make friends with and be social. All the things she's not. She was aware that it was something she needed to work on, but it was easier to be an asshole than to actively try to play nice.

Jess secures the bandages loosely around her hand before pushing herself to her feet - not caring about what's left of the broken glass. "The quicker we get there, the quicker we can get the fuck out of there."

"That's the spirit."

Said with dry sarcasm as she wraps an arm around Jessica's waist. She doesn't actually think her sister needs help walking, it's almost more about making sure Jess stays the course and really comes with her to medbay.

"I'm a real ray of sunshine." Yeeeeeeeeah, if there's one thing Jess actually needs right now, it's someone making sure she actually follows through with getting the stitches. Left to her own devices, she'd have peaced so fast and gone to the planet to deal with her injury her own way.

She... may or may not need a little more convincing once they actually reach Medbay.

"Yep, always lighting up my day."

Which is a lot more true than Jessica might be comfortable with, really. Jess made Trish want to be better, made her want to be more. As painful as that is sometimes, especially when she feels like she's not measuring up to her own impossibly high standards, so much of what is good about her is because Jessica came into her life.

Yup. Way more true than she really wanted it to be. Perpetual states of denial about her actually being a good person who helps people and doesn't destroy the lives she touches are kind of her thing. She'd given up on the idea of trying to keep Trish out, but there was still some sort of delicate balancing act when it came to her sister and the idea of safety.

"Think they'll let me look at my medical file while we're in there?" And maybe edit it. It was something she hadn't tried to hack and she hadn't bothered to ask because the opportunity hadn't been right. But, she needed to know just how much it had on her, especially after that fucking prison planet scanning bullshit. Might as well try to find a positive in this trip.

"If they don't I'll argue with them until they do."

Because to her mind it sounds like something that Jess should have every right in the world to look at. It's information about her after all and Trish really doesn't appreciate all this secrecy bullshit that's going on.

Never mind that she too is withholding information about things...

Maybe she and Jess ought to get around to talking about that stuff sometimes soonish.

[ Honestly, Jessica, same.

Tony sits across the bar, watching her from the corner of his eye. He recognizes her from the picture in the directory; he'd looked up her name after reading her exchange with Pietro on the network, of course he had. It hadn't served any productive purpose, had simply satisfied his compulsive need to know the faces of the people he ends up fucking over. Call it a bad habit. He isn't likely to break it any time soon. Still, it figures she'd be here drowning her sorrows, when he's here trying to drown his sorrows, and she's a walking reminder of at least a damn good portion of those. The only saving grace is that the portion of his troubles that requires the most self-medication just now is the portion she'd claimed to have no memory of, been no part of. At least there's that.

He's got a bottle of scotch that he's nursing — out of a glass, with ice, all proper-like — but it's sort of half-hearted, with not nearly the gusto Jessica's putting the stuff away. And if he's honest, he knows he has no business downing an entire bottle on his own. At least not in this place, right now.

By the time her bottle's nearing empty, he tops off his glass and slides his own bottle down the bar. ]

You look like you need this more than I do.

[ It takes a whole damn lot to look worse than Tony Stark, lady. The man never sleeps. Congrats. ]

[ She'd have had to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not recognize Tony Stark sitting at the bar. Any other day, she might've had a smartass response for him or turned down the offered bottle. Maybe even let it hit the floor is she was feeling like enough of an asshole... But today is not that day.

She catches the bottle with an arched eyebrow, pouring some of it into the empty shot glass in front of her. Jessica often made a point to drink booze she tended to deem as not even deserving a waste of a glass, but this was different. ]

Not so sure about that, but thanks.

[ For once, the fight's out of her - bringing the shot glass to her lips before leveling a look at him. ] I'm just gonna assume we don't need to pretend with introductions and empty small talk. [ She refills the shot glass before gesturing to see if he wants the bottle back to refill his own. ] Guessing you caught the 5 o'clock shit show a few days ago.

Skipping the introductions is my favorite thing.

[ Generous of her to offer it back, really, at the pace she was putting her own bottle away. He waves it off; he's probably had too much already, and his self-control might not (probably won't) last through the conversation, but it's at least steadfast right now. ]

Voyeurism isn't really my bag, just so we're clear, but it was public, so... [ He doesn't look at her while he speaks, opting instead to examine the refraction of light off the ice cubes and amber liquid in his glass. But he does toss her a brief side-long glance. ] Y'know, that whole mess [ "that mess", "New York", he figures she'll take the meaning ] was less than 48 hours from the time they plucked me here. I'm learning more about the fallout from second-hand text message conversations on the network and throw away comments in conversation than with my own two eyes.

[ He punctuates that by taking a long swig from his glass, then sets it down heavily. The ice rattles together. ]

Kinda fucked up. [ His tone goes for airy and misses by a mile. ]

[ Good, then they were on the same page. No need to beat around the bush. Just get straight to the point and see how things go from there. His quip catches her off guard, earning an arched eyebrow. ] I make a living digging up other people's dirt back home, hard to miss when it's hanging out for everyone to see.

[ And then he speaks and whatever amount of snark she might've tried to throw at him goes out the window. While she could be a raging bitch, she knew when to call it quits. When to try and play nice and channel her sister rather than herself. Easier said than done when she'd made an active effort to drink to the point where she didn't really filter anything. ] More than kinda, I'd say.

[ She lets that hang in the air for a moment as she tries to make a decision. One that she's already hating because of what it means. ] I can try to answer some questions - make sense of some of what happened with fallout, at least in Hell's Kitchen. [ Because she understood that feeling of being lost in a sea of information and getting overwhelmed by tragedy and other people's pain. That feeling of being responsible even if it wasn't directly her fault. She was the catalyst for the butterfly effect that brought down the second tsunami on Hell's Kitchen. Least she could do was take the burden of some of the shit off of someone else's shoulders if they'll let her. ]

[ A lot more than kinda.

Part of him is surprised she doesn't go for the throat. It seems like she'd have plenty of ammunition if she decided to, and though he'll defend his and the Avengers' actions to his cold, bitter grave... that wouldn't actually invalidate any of her criticisms at all. And he's not about to throw them back in her face, either.

He's silent for a while, probably long enough that it might seem like he's not going to respond. There's plenty he'd like to know. Some of it is stuff Jessica isn't likely to know, and some of it is stuff he doesn't have any right to ask.

When he finally does pick his question, he doesn't look up from the glass, and his voice is low. ]

Final death toll?

[ He guesses, more than anything else, that's what he needs to know. That's information he should be responsible for living with. ]

[ Jessica's just too fucking tired to fight right now. A few days on her own after taking the time to actually process a few things with Trish has made it so that she's not all that interested in adding a new battle to the list. In that same vein, she's not stupid. She knows exactly what she could possibly be getting herself into when it comes to leaving something that open for follow up questions. However, she hadn't exactly expected him to jump right to something that big.

She knows what he's doing, deep down she does. Because she did the same thing, taking on the blame for every single person Kilgrave touched and hurt. There's no gentle way to do this, so she treats it like ripping off a bandaid. Quick and to the point. ]

Between Manhattan and the aftermath in Hell's kitchen with Fisk and Kilgrave? I'd put it somewhere around 1,000. [ A beat. ] It could've been a lot worse, Stark. [ Because that's helpful. ]

[ The number doesn't seem to surprise him, and though many of those were surely collateral damage, he knows Loki and the Chitauri are responsible for most of those casualties by far. He just sighs heavily and knocks the rest of his drink back in one swig. He probably doesn't need to set the glass down as forcefully as he does. ]

Yeah, no kidding. It could've been a nuke in Manhattan. It could've been the whole world.

[ Yeah, the Avengers screwed up plenty, but dammit, imagine if they hadn't done anything. And yet he can't summon the energy to sound self-righteous. Because he's just... not. ]

I have no idea what happened in Hell's Kitchen specifically, but I'm pretty sure that has more to do with me being snatched to a different universe than negligence.

[ She doesn't blame him for just how forcefully he puts down the glass, considering she's not one to speak. She's definitely shattered her fair share of glasses and bottles. Case in point: her hand.

He's right, it could've been a hell of a lot worse than it was, but it still wasn't pretty. His admitting the last thing he'd remembered though eases some of her residual anger for Hell's Kitchen. He literally had no idea what happened because it hadn't happened yet for him. Congratulations, Stark - you get a one time pass. ]

Well, I can give you a general overview of that particular shit show or if you'd prefer... I can leave that alone since it didn't really have anything to do with the Avengers or you can ask my sister. She's better at this kind of shit.

[ Because Trish was a much gentler person than she was, add on top of that exhaustion and handling things with even a hint of delicacy just wasn't going to happen. ]

[ Tony spins on his barstool, once, clearly mulling this over. 'Nothing to do with the Avengers' is a relief and a welcome change of pace, but he has a nagging feeling it isn't totally disconnected from everything else. And it's not like he's not interested in whatever the hell went down. He does live in New York half the time.

He eventually situates himself backwards on the stool, one elbow braced against the bar. He cuts Jessica a sideways glance. ]

You may as well. I'm halfway to drunk and collecting as many shitty stories as I can. I figure people'll run out eventually and I'll be home free.

[ But something in her last statement has him quirking an eyebrow. ]

Didn't know there was another 'Jones' running around, though.

[ She can't help but watch him shift on the stool, making a few mental notes about some of his habits she's picked up on. It's habit, an homage to her life back home in a way. At least here the people watching didn't involve cheaters (as far as she knew) and she wasn't getting paid to creep on people in the middle of some very personal acts. Had to fill the time somehow.

Once he seems finally settled, she gives him a lift of her eyebrows with a soft exhale. It's relatable, that idea to just get everything out - like ripping off a really big bandaid. A big bandaid basically made of literal shit. ] Suit yourself. [ It wasn't everyone's MO but she could do this, at least try and info dump in as impersonal of a way as possible. Although his next statement stops her dead in her tracks. Her head cocks to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. ] Another 'Jones'? Don't tell me I have a clone or something fucking dumb running around. [ There are certain factoids she likes to keep on the DL - her adoptive sister being one of those usually. At least when it came to people actually from their world. ]

I mean, it wouldn't be the first time, or the second time, or probably even the third time... but no.

[ Two Lokis, multiple versions of himself, it's all getting quite exhausting and hard to keep track of. But as far as this conversation is concerned, Tony - blissfully unaware of Trish's relation to any of this - simply gives her a blandly inquiring look. ]

"Ask my sister"?

[ She... doesn't want to think about the idea of a duplicate of her running around. It was already too much with Trish's clone. Hers would probably be something fucking dumb and made of sunshine and rainbows. Eyebrows lift, and she takes a long drink before actually answering his question. ]

Ah, yeah. That. Different last name, she's something of a personality back home - you might've heard of her. Trish. Trish Walker.

[ And now to watch and wait. Reactions to that tended to vary so this should be interesting. ]

[ True to form, one eyebrow shoots upward in surprise. Wait for it... wait for it... ]

Huh.

[ Nailed it. He'd be lying if he claimed he's not surprised by the relation - these two are basically nothing alike, as far as he can tell - but it makes sense if you consider that both of them are conveniently from the same world as him and the rest. ]

You're not wrong, but I'm a little past 'heard of her' with Trish Walker.

[ Which, for once, is a completely innocent statement. Had they happened to meet years ago back home - which was well within the realm of possibility, given their social circles - this might've been more awkward. But as it is, grabbing drinks and making fun of their mutual acquaintances is about as innocuous as you can get. ]

[ As far as reactions usually go to that little tidbit of information coming out, his was by far the most unexpected. And he wasn't going to ask the usual question of 'how' and she wasn't about to volunteer that particular shit show of information.

Also, considering Trish's history with guys - she'd have known if she slept with Tony Stark. Some things weren't kept as secrets, certainly not their romantic encounters aka string of bad life choices. Something that seemed to run in the family, not that she had any room to judge. Considering one of her actively tried to kill her after brainwashing her for awhile, and the other was currently in a coma and might never wake up. And it was all her fault. Trish's current romance was probably the healthiest either of them would have or hope to achieve in their lifetimes. For the best to keep Stark off that list. ]

A little past the heard of her as in you've met her here or you're a big fan back home?

[ She'd rather ask for the clarification on that rather than assume things. Stark really wasn't on the list, was he? Depending on his answer, she and Trish might need to have a talk. ]

[ He smirks, possibly because she doesn't ask the obvious question. Living in denial? Who knows. Another day, in another situation, he might've messed with her. As it is, he just offers an airy shrug. ]

As in we've discussed our mutual acquaintances over drinks, to the great satisfaction of all parties involved.

[ Well, maybe not to Bruce's satisfaction, but he can get over behind talked about behind his back. At least the answer is honest. ]

I'd say we've got a pretty good arrangement going.

Tex has never had occasion to run into Jessica, doesn't know Jessica is her doppelganger's sister, and really doesn't have much reason right now to care. Now that Church is gone she spends most of her evenings patrolling in her robot body, but she's feeling down on this particular night—not that she needs Church around, she'll never need Church the way Church needs her, but she does miss him tonight. For some reason.

Oh no, the problem is she knows exactly the reason, and that's because he sat at her bedside as she was dying and told her he loved her, and then disappeared. Church was a major fucking asshole but this move took the cake as far as she was concerned. She was so angry about it, but punching the punching bags and patrolling the ship only got her so far.

So she decided to inhabit her human body—the one she and Trish had concluded had been cloned from Trish—and get. fucking. drunk. Though she had been pushing this body too hard lately, and dying so many times recently was going to make getting drunk painful and unsatisfying, she just knew that somehow. But that didn't lessen the desire to do it, to just let go and do something damn stupid.

Tex passes by just as Jessica slams down the bottle again, crossing behind her to get to the corner barstool. This one's her favorite, and she can tell it's vacant because everyone else was too afraid to get close to Jessica. It's one empty bar stool now between her and Jessica, but that doesn't bother her. She waves the person tending bar this evening over and says, "I want one of those for myself, too."

She honestly didn't give Tex a second glance, assuming it was her sister coming to check up on her. Something that wouldn't really be all that surprising considering the state of their last conversation. Just how badly Jess had broken down in front of her. She'd needed the few days to herself to put the pieces back into place, though she hadn't exactly planned on doing any babysitting tonight.

Which is why there's such a look of surprise at the order, not that she can really speak. What her sister does is up to her, as long as Jess didn't get blamed for the consequences. "I'm not holding your hair back when you puke, Trish. I'll leave that for your boytoy." Yup, she sure did just call Bruce boytoy. And if it had actually been Trish she might've found that funny.

If it hadn't been for the inclusion of Trish's name that statement would have pissed Tex right off—no one talked to her about Church that way. Instead it causes her to arch her brows. She and Trish looked alike but they had distinctly different voices. This woman must be pretty drunk not to notice that.

"I don't think we've met," she says. "And Trish must not have mentioned me. I'm Tex."

With that she lifts the bottle the bartender has brought her and takes a drink, neat. She was not a lightweight, whether Trish was or not.

Not that she was too drunk to notice, more that she didn't care. That she had so much going on in her own mind to really pay more attention someone she'd thought she'd recognized. Someone she wouldn't have to assess and judge as a potential threat. Someone who wouldn't suddenly set her on edge to the point of hitting fight or flight instincts kicking in.

She stills, posture shifting into something a lot less relaxed because what the fuck. "Tex." She echoes, "We haven't and no, she hadn't." Jessica hadn't exactly been prepared for this, but then when was she really ever prepared for anything on this ship? She can feel the beginning strands of a headache forming behind her eyes, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Alright, Tex... any particular reason you look exactly like my sister or was it just luck?"

Tex raises a brow as she watches Jessica shift. She doesn't mean to be defensive but Jessica's change in posture is a pretty good tell that she's unhappy with what's going on, rather than accepting it at face value. Of course she does have an answer—she and Trish could only conclude that they'd cloned Trish in order to give her a body—but right now her status as an AI is something she keeps as something of a secret. She looks at her bottle and lifts it.

"Maybe she just has a generically pretty face."

She's gonna try to not get insulted at the generic comment, just like she's not gonna try to dig further into the 'why'. At least not with Tex. That's something she can get from Trish after they have a firm twin discussion. There's a huff before she returns to drinking, taking a long pull off the bottle as she shifts again in the seat.

"Anybody come up to you and start singing 'It's Patsy' yet?"

"No, but that sounds delightful." Dryly sarcastic. She doesn't know much about Trish's history in show business but she can guess where the title came from. "By that title it sounds like the kind of thing you'd shoot someone in the foot for singing. You know—just to watch them dance, too."

"Assuming they aren't doing a dance or the stupid little hand gestures that went with that fucking song." She loved her sister, but she hated everything that seemed to follow her around when it came to Patsy. "The amount of weird shit she'd get in the mail from psycho fans is enough to make you want to shoot the next person who sings the song." Just on principal alone, honestly.

"Remind me never to go into show business." Not that she would need the reminder. It wasn't at all tempting to try to get famous in any way. "I know what it's like to have one person obsessed with me; I wouldn't want to tempt fate."

"A-fucking-men to that." On more than one level. Honestly, being a famous personality was a curse in their situation back home, one of the reasons Jess had worked so hard to stay the fuck away from Trish. There's a pause at that, giving a little shake of her head and taking a long pull from the bottle. "Yeah, well having one person obsessed is enough to destroy your life. More is just icing on a shit cake."

"She's a strong person," Tex observed. "Maybe more than I realized up until now." She hadn't given Trish much thought since learning she had been cloned from her, though, quite honestly. It was what it was, and questioning the who or the why wasn't going to get her far.

"She's put up with a lot of shit. More shit than she should've." Life hadn't been good to Trish. Not for a long time and no matter how hard Jess tried to keep her safe. It always blew up in her face. "She's more than strong. She's good. A hell of a lot better than me, that much is for sure."

Well, 'good' is relative in Tex's experience, but she can appreciate the sentiment. "I haven't done much toward getting to know her. It always seemed best to keep my distance." She shrugs, and takes a drink. It's got to be strange, knowing the Ingress has cloned you. Or that someone cloned you on purpose somehow. Tex really doesn't know which it is.

[ He sees that word before he comes over to sit with her. It's been a rough day for everyone; stupid compiles on stupid and the ship's a powder keg he's more than happy to get away from. Bucky's seen her conversations even if he hadn't entirely meant to, and he sympathizes.

Shit happens, right? They just have to get on with it. They've been drinking buddies off and on, and even if Bucky doesn't get drunk, there's something wholly comforting about the burn of alcohol and their companionable silence. He sits across from her, his own bottle already half-empty. He sets another full one between them, knowing that she's probably going to need it before the night is over. ]

Writing a story?

[ She'd been grateful to get off of said powder-keg for a few days, at this point not too surprised that people seemed to recognize her now that she was back. Her explosion with Pietro had spread like wildfire, apparently, at least among people from home. She wasn't surprised, hadn't exactly gone into it with big plans for discretion... She just hadn't planned on things going like that.

But when did anything in her life ever go according to plan? ] Yeah, I think it's got the makings for the best-seller list. [ Eyes drift to the bottle she sets down, giving it a once over before taking another pull from hers as she taps lightly on the keyboard. ] Dedicate it to my newest friend on board.

[ Nothing ever goes to plan, and he doesn't blame her. Things have been tense for a long time, and this is just another explosion. He harbors no illusion that things have been shit for her as well, and he can understand just where she's coming from, the anger that's buried and never really fixed.

Things happen, and people are never the same again. Bucky's just progressed beyond that to a powerful desire to just be left the hell alone. Then again, shit happens, right? They both know that better than anyone else, and he wonders if that's a good thing.

He nods and sets a glass before Jessica, pouring it out for her as well. It's the stronger stuff, provides the kind of burn people like them have always craved. ]

I can proof-read it for you, if you like. [ He's a nice guy that way, you know. ]

[ /Golden Girls theme intensifies.

She takes the glass with a soft thanks before bringing it to her lips. One of the reasons she often opted for the cheaper stuff back home other than for financial reasons was for the burn that came with it. The burn kept her awake, reminded her she was alive. Something she sometimes needed when she could feel herself slipping and losing her grip on consciousness aka that fucking dumb thing called sleep. Sure the smooth shit was nice, but she wasn't drinking it to enjoy it. Not all the time. ]

Thanks, should be a pretty enjoyable read once I'm done. [ Short, too. ] Maybe I'll go back down to the vacation planet and look for some more inspiration, or get back on the network to see what else I can dig up.

[ It's said more to herself than to him, taking another drink and emptying her glass in the process. She reaches for the bottle with her bandaged hand, holding the glass in her other to refill. It's gonna be that kind of a night. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( open ) It's hard to wake up from a nightmare...

Closed to Trish Walker | 6/6 cw: blood, jessica's past, talks of a suicide

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well my inbox sure did eat this notif

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sorry my inbox ate this

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